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I am the mother of an only son,
Who for these many days I have not seen:
I know right well naught is conceal'd from you
Of what concerns him; let me know, I pray you,
Where I may find my child.

MIRA.

Madam, you speak to one who in his secrets

Has small concern.

COUNTESS ZATERLOO.

Nay, now, I pray you, do not keep it from me:

I come not with a parent's stern rebuke:
Do tell me where he is, for love of grace:
Or, if you will not, say if he is sick,
Or if he is distress'd with any want.
Do, for love's sake! I have no child but him.

MIRA (giving her the letter).

There, Madam; this is all I know of him.

'Twas yonder stranger gave it to my hand;
(Pointing to the man.)
We need not interrupt you with our presence;
And so good day.(Exeunt Mira and Alice.

COUNTESS ZATERLOO (after reading the letter).

Alas, my son! and art thou low and wounded?

Stretch'd on the cold ground of thy hiding place
In want and fear? Oh art thou come to this!
Thou who didst smile in thy fair op'ning morn,
As cherubs smile who point the way to heaven.